Academic literature on the topic '1814-1884 Criticism and interpretation'

This paper examines the theological claims of Hong Xiuquan (1814–64), the leader of the Taiping Rebellion (1850–64). Whilst various aspects of the Taipings' theology and religious culture were characterised by originality, the most unique – and, for many, shocking – feature of their new theological world-view was the belief that Hong was the second son of God and younger brother of Jesus. This belief, which was based on visions that Hong had experienced in 1837, provoked criticism and condemnation from Protestant missionaries who were in China at the time of the Taiping Rebellion. The first part of this paper discusses two particular interpretations of Hong's claims in the reports of those missionaries. The analysis reveals that the missionaries' orthodox lens caused them to misunderstand and misrepresent Hong's claim to be the second son of God. Moving beyond the critical interpretations of the missionaries, the second part of this paper examines the Taipings' specific discourses on the nature of the Heavenly Father and his relation to Jesus and Hong. By analysing Hong's claims within this wider (and previously ignored) theological framework, the paper supports a new interpretation that views the title second son of God not as evidence of the Taipings' heterodox character, but as an access point for understanding their localised doctrine of God.

Ethnographic approaches to understanding a text and its cultural values have been scarcely developed from the viewpoint of linguistic verification in translation criticism. Methods of studying cultural material which focus on the environment and behaviour can be borrowed from Ethnography for identifying and assessing cultural values in the texts of an original and a translation. The case study is performed on the key personality in Ukrainian cultural history, the poet, artist and thinker Taras Shevchenko (1814–1861) whose poetic texts turned out to be prophetical for constructing the Ukrainian political nation out of ethnic mass and building the future Ukrainian nation-state. ‘Translation is museum’ is no longer an eloquent metaphor, but a multi-layered concept in the system of text typology. The starting point for the ethnographic analysis of the original-translation relations is collective memory as a textual category. Close to intertextuality which is oriented toward a variety of existing and connected texts, collective memory enables one to focus on the selectiveness of cultural information as actualized – really or probably – in a newly generated text. Axiological values in the text should be interpreted via the symbolization of an event. This symbolization along with cultural compatibility, implications and misunderstandings offer a close set of criteria for textual comparisons. The finalized ethnographic system of contrasting an original and a translation contribute to the cultural interpretation of a text, so needed in translation criticism.

The beginning of diplomatic relations between the Golden Horde and Mamluk Egypt and the conversion to Islam by Khan Berke (1257–1266) are reflected in written sources. The most important of these is the Garden of Flowers in the Biography of al-Malik al-Zahir, compiled by Muhyi d-Din Abu-l-Fadl ’Abdallah ibn ‘Abd az-Zahir, the secretary of the Sultan al-Malik al-Zahir Rukn al-Din Baybars al-Bunduqdari (1260–1277). This work became the basis for later books of those who represented Arabic-speaking historical tradition. The excerpts from these works uncovering the history of the Golden Horde were published in 1884 by V. G. Tizengausen. It should be noted that the translation of the sources made by V. G. Tizengausen at a high level is not a word-by-word translation. The literary translation leaves room for various historical interpretations of the texts. In 2020, V. A. Sidorenko published an attempt of interpretation of the kind. The aim of the present research is grammatical, historical, and religious analysis of the conjectures given by V. A. Sidorenko and the conclusions drawn against this background. The results of the research undertaken support the conclusion that the most likely date of conversion to Islam by Khan Berke reflected in the written sources is 1263. Moreover, the author criticises the conjectures of Ibn Abd al-Zahir’s text suggested by V. A. Sidorenko. The greatest objection is the translation of the content of the first letter of the Egyptian Sultan to Khan Berke. The conclusion is made that, at the moment when the letter to Berke was written, al-Malik al-Zahir Baybars had no doubts about the religion of the Khan. This conclusion suggests doubts concerning the chronological sequence of diplomatic missions and exchange of letters between Egypt and the Golden Horde suggested by V. A. Sidorenko. One should search for the reason for the contradictions between the content of the Sultan’s message to the Khan of the Golden Horde and the content of the letters delivered to Egypt by Berke’s ambassadors among the features of religious policy of Mongolian rulers. Taking the Khan’s sympathy for Islam into account, the reason behind the letter to Berke probably was the misinterpretation of the information concerning his religion received in Egypt.

The Young Grundtvig and NorwayBy Gustav AlbeckThis article is a revised and extended version of the lecture given by Professor Albeck on April 30th 1984 at the annual general meeting of the Grundtvig Society in Oslo. It describes Grundtvig’s close relationship to a number of Norwegian friends he made during his residence at the Walkendorf hostel in Copenhagen in the years 1808-11; this circle of friends lasted and widened to include other Norwegians in his later life.Grundtvig was 67 before he set foot on Norwegian soil, but from his early youth he had familiarised himself with the Norwegian landscape and history through Norwegian literature. His feeling of kinship with the spirit and history of Norway was for a time stronger than his consciousness of being Danish. In his youth Norway and the Norwegians played a major role in opinion-making in Denmark, and in this respect Grundtvig was no different from his contemporary Danes. But the idea of Norway’s future continued to concern him long after his youth was over. The lecture, however, confines itself to the way certain Norwegians regarded Grundtvig between 1808 and 1811.When Grundtvig returned to Copenhagen from Langeland in 1808 he had no friends in the capital. But at the Walkendorf hostel he met first and foremost Svend B. Hersleb, a Norwegian theologian, to whom he addressed a jocular poem in the same year, revealing that Grundtvig now felt himself young again and among young people following his unrequited passion for Constance Leth. Otherwise we have only a few witnesses to this first period of happiness, with Grundtvig gaining a foothold on the Danish parnassus through his first Norse Mythology and Scenes from Heroic Life in the North.The fullest accounts of Grundtvig’s relationship to the Norwegians in the period following his nervous breakdown and religious breakthrough in 1810 come from the journals of the Norwegian-Danish dean and poet, Frederik Schmidt, made during various trips to Denmark. These journals were published in extenso between 1966 and 1985 in three volumes, the last of which includes a commentary by the editors and a postscript by Gustav Albeck. Many of the valuable notes about Grundtvig are repeated in the lecture. Frederik Schmidt was the son of a Norwegian bishop; he became a rural dean and later a member of the first National Assembly at Eids voll in 1814. He was a Norwegian patriot but loyal to the Danes and in fact returned to Denmark in 1820. His descriptions of Grundtvig’s conversations with Niels Treschow, the Norwegian-born Professor of Philosophy at Copenhagen University, give an authentic and concentrated picture of Grundtvig’s reflections on his conversion to a strict Lutheran faith, which for a time threatened to hinder his development as a secular writer. Schmidt found their way of presenting their differing views “very interesting and human”, and Grundtvig’s Christian faith “warm, intense and sincere”. “In the animated features of his dark eyes and pale face there is something passionate yet also gentle”. When Schmidt himself talked to Grundtvig about a current paper which stated that in early Christianity there was a fusion between Greek thought and oriental feeling, Grundtvig exclaimed, “Yet another Christianity without Christ!” A draft of a reply to one of Schmidt’s articles shows that at that point, April 1811, Grundtvig did not believe in the working of “the living word” in its secular meaning. The draft was not printed and Grundtvig does not appear to have discussed it with Schmidt. There is a very precise description of Grundtvig’s appearance: “There is... something confused in his eyes; he sometimes closes them after a tiring conversation, as if he wants to pull his thoughts together again.” Schmidt in no way agrees with Grundtvig’s point of view, which he partly puts down to “disappointed hopes, humbled pride and the persecution... he has been subjected to...” But he does find another important explanation in Grundtvig’s “need for reassuring knowledge” and his conviction “that the misery of the age can only be helped by true religious feeling”.There are also descriptions of Grundtvig in a more jovial mood, for example together with Professor George Sverdrup, where Grundtvig repeated some rather unflattering accounts of the playwright Holberg’s behaviour towards a couple of professors who were colleagues. The same evening he and Schmidt set about attacking Napoleon while Treschow and Sverdrup defended him. Schmidt considered Grundtvig’s little book, New Year’s Eve, “devout to the point of pietist sentiment”, but thought the error lay rather in Grundtvig’s head than his heart. Lovely is the Clear Blue Night (Dejlig er den himmel blaa), published in April 1811 was even read aloud by Schmidt to a woman poet; but he criticised The Anholt-Campaign.After 1814 Schmidt adopted a somewhat cooler tone towards Grundtvig’s books. He was unable to go along with Grundtvig’s talk of a united Denmark- Norway as his fatherland. He criticised the poems Grundtvig published in his periodical, Danevirke, including even The Easter Lily for its “vulgar language”, which Grundtvig appeared to confuse with a true “language of power”. It is impossible to prove any close relationship between Schmidt and Grundtvig, but he was an attentive observer when they met in Copenhagen in 1811.With the opening of the Royal Frederik University in Christiania in 1813 Grundtvig became separated from his Norwegian friends, as Hersleb, Treschow and Sverdrup were all appointed to the new Norwegian university. They were keen for Grundtvig to join them as Professor of History. Sverdrup in particular was captivated by his personality, and in a letter dated April 21st 1812 he informed Grundtvig that he was among the candidates for the post proposed by the commission to the King. But Grundtvig himself hesitated; he felt “calm and quietly happy” in Udby “as minister for simple Christians”. To his friend, the Norwegian-born Poul Dons, he wrote, “... something in me draws me up there, something keeps me down here.” The fact that he never got the job was in many ways his own fault. His World Chronicle (1812) could not but offend scholars of a rationalist approach, in particular the prediction at the end of the book about the new university’s effect. It is linked to Grundtvig’s interpretation (1810) of the letters to the seven churches in Revelation, which are seen as a prediction of the seven great churches in the historical advance of Christianity.“It was an idea,” says Albeck, “which in spite of its obvious irrationality never left Grundtvig, and as late as 1860 it found poetic form in the great poem, The Pleiades of Christendom (Christenhedens Syvstjerne).” Grundtvig “was in no doubt that the sixth church was the Nordic, and that it would grow out of the Norwegian university, the new Wittenberg.” In 1810 Grundtvig felt himself “chosen to be the forerunner of a new reformer, a new Johan Huss before a new Luther.” From a scholarly point of view there is no reason to reproach the Danish selection panel for the negative judgment they reached regarding Grundtvig’s qualifications as a historian. His name was not even mentioned in the appointments for the new professorships. He had caused quite a stir not long before by writing a birthday poem for the King in which he directly expressed his wish that the new university might become a Wittenberg. The poem took the form of a series of accusations against Norway and the Norwegians, and in particular against Nicolai Wergeland, who in a prize-winning essay on the Norwegian university entitled Mnemosyne had stuck a few needles into Denmark and the Danes. Grundtvig accused the Norwegians of ingratitude to Denmark and unchristian pride. Even his good friend Hersleb reacted to such an attack.From the diaries of the Norwegian, Claus Pavels, we know how the Norwegian poet, Jonas Rein, wrote and told Grundtvig that “a greater meekness towards people with a different opinion would be more fitting for a teacher of Christianity.” Grundtvig replied that he had had to speak the truth loud and clear in a degenerate age. The Bishop of Bergen, Nordal Brun, also considered Grundtvig’s views as expressed to the King “misplaced and insulting”. He was particularly hurt that Norway “should have to thank Denmark for its Christianity and protestantism”. When Grundtvig printed the poem in Little Songs (Kv.dlinger) in 1815, Nicolai Wergeland was moved to write Denmark’s Political Crimes against the Kingdom of Norway, published in 1816.For Grundtvig’s Norwegian friends it was a matter of regret that he did not come to Norway, not least for Stener Stenersen, who in 1814 became a lecturer and in 1818 a professor of theology at the Norwegian university. His correspondence with Grundtvig from 1813 is now regarded as a valuable source for Grundtvig’s view of Christianity at that time. In his diary entry for August 27th 1813 Pavels notes that Stenersen had proposed that the Society for the Wellbeing of Norway should use all its influence to get Grundtvig to Norway. In his proposition Stenersen asked who possessed such unity and purity of thought as to be able to understand fully the importance of scholarship; he himself had only one candidate - Grundtvig. From a contemporary standpoint he had won his way to the Christian faith. But the rationalist Pavels, the source of our information, was far from convinced that “no man in the whole of Norway” possessed these abilities in equal measure to Grundtvig”. He therefore had misgivings about “requesting him as Norway’s last and only deliverer”.When Grundtvig heard of Stenersen’s proposition he sought an audience with the King on September 8th at which he clearly expressed his desire to become Professor of History at the Norwegian University. Two Danish professors, Børge Thorlacius and Laurids Engelsto. found it strange, however, that Treschow, Sverdrup and Hersleb could “deify Grundtvig”. And his great wish was never fulfilled. Nonetheless he did not give up. On November 15th he saw that the post of curate was being advertised at Aggers church near Christiania and applied for the job. From his book Roskilde Rhymes (published on February 1st 1814) it is clear that he believed that it was there that his great work was to be accomplished. But in those very days Frederik VI was signing the peace of Kiel which would separate Norway from Denmark, and Grundtvig from his wish.In the preface to Danevirke (dated May 1817) he realised that he had deserved the scorn of the Norwegians, for he had expected too much of them. But he never forgot his Norwegian friends. He named one of his sons after Svend Hersleb, and another son married Stenersen’s daughter. When he himself visited Norway in 1851 he was welcomed like a prince.

Historical fiction, a widely-read genre, continues to engender contradiction and controversy within the fields of literature and historiography. This paper begins with a discussion of the differences and similarities between historical writing and the historical novel, focusing on the way these forms interpret and represent the past. It then examines the dilemma facing historians as they try to come to terms with the modern era and the growing competition from other modes of presenting history. Finally, it considers claims by Australian historians that so-called “fictive history” has been bestowed with historical authority to the detriment of traditional historiography. The Fact/Fiction Dichotomy Hayden White, a leading critic in the field of historiography, claims that the surge in popularity of historical fiction and the novel form in the nineteenth century caused historians to seek recognition of their field as a serious “science” (149). Historians believed that, to be scientific, historical studies had to cut ties with any form of artistic writing or imaginative literature, especially the romantic novel. German historian Leopold von Ranke “anathematized” the historical novel virtually from its first appearance in Scott’s Waverley in 1814. Hayden White argues that Ranke and others after him wrote history as narrative while eschewing the use of imagination and invention that were “exiled into the domain of ‘fiction’ ” (149-150). Early critics in the nineteenth century questioned the value of historical fiction. Famous Cuban poet Jose Maria Heredia believed that history was opposite and superior to fiction; he accused the historical novel of degrading history to the level of fiction which, he argued, is lies (cited in de Piérola 152). Alessandro Manzoni, though partially agreeing with Heredia, argued that fiction had value in its “poetic truth” as opposed to the “positive truth” of history (153). He eventually decided that the historical novel fails through the mixing of the incompatible elements of history and fiction, which can lead to deception (ibid). More than a hundred years after Heredia, Georg Lukács, in his much-cited The Historical Novel, first published in 1937, was more concerned with the social aspect of the historical novel and its capacity to portray the lives of its protagonists. This form of writing, through its attention to the detail of minor events, was better at highlighting the social aspects than the greater moments of history. Lukács argues that the historical novel should focus on the “poetic awakening” of those who participated in great historical events rather than the events themselves (42). The reader should be able to experience first-hand “the social and human motives which led men to think, feel and act just as they did in historical reality” (ibid). Through historical fiction, the reader is thus able to gain a greater understanding of a specific period and why people acted as they did. In contrast to these early critics, historian and author of three books on history and three novels, Richard Slotkin, argues that the historical novel can recount the past as accurately as history, because it should involve similar research methods and critical interpretation of the data (225). Kent den Heyer and Alexandra Fidyk go even further, suggesting that “historical fiction may offer a more plausible representation of the past than those sources typically accepted as more factual” (144). In its search for “poetic truth,” the novel tries to create a sense of what the past was, without necessarily adhering to all the factual details and by eliminating facts not essential to the story (Slotkin 225). For Hayden White, the difference between factual and fictional discourse, is that one is occupied by what is “true” and the other by what is “real” (147). Historical documents may provide a basis for a “true account of the world” in a certain time and place, but they are limited in their capacity to act as a foundation for the exploration of all aspects of “reality.” In White’s words: The rest of the real, after we have said what we can assert to be true about it, would not be everything and anything we could imagine about it. The real would consist of everything that can be truthfully said about its actuality plus everything that can be truthfully said about what it could possibly be. (ibid) White’s main point is that both history and fiction are interpretative by nature. Historians, for their part, interpret given evidence from a subjective viewpoint; this means that it cannot be unbiased. In the words of Beverley Southgate, “factual history is revealed as subjectively chosen, subjectively interpreted, subjectively constructed and incorporated within a narrative” (45). Both fiction and history are narratives, and “anyone who writes a narrative is fictionalising,” according to Keith Jenkins (cited in Southgate 32). The novelist and historian find meaning through their own interpretation of the known record (Brown) to produce stories that are entertaining and structured. Moreover, historians often reach conflicting conclusions in their translations of the same archival documents, which, in the extreme, can spark a wider dispute such as the so-called history wars, the debate about the representation of the Indigenous peoples in Australian history that has polarised both historians and politicians. The historian’s purpose differs from that of the novelist. Historians examine the historical record in fine detail in an attempt to understand its complexities, and then use digressions and footnotes to explain and lend authority to their findings. The novelist on the other hand, uses their imagination to create personalities and plot and can leave out important details; the novelist achieves authenticity through detailed description of setting, customs, culture, buildings and so on (Brown). Nevertheless, the main task of both history and historical fiction is to represent the past to a reader in the present; this “shared concern with the construction of meaning through narrative” is a major component in the long-lasting, close relationship between fiction and history (Southgate 19). However, unlike history, the historical novel mixes fiction and fact, and is therefore “a hybrid of two genres” (de Piérola 152); this mixture of supposed opposites of fact and fiction creates a dilemma for the theorist, because historical fiction cannot necessarily be read as belonging to either category. Attitudes towards the line drawn between fiction and history are changing as more and more critics and theorists explore the area where the two genres intersect. Historian John Demos argues that with the passing of time, this distinction “seems less a boundary than a borderland of surprising width and variegated topography” (329). While some historians are now willing to investigate the wide area where the two genres overlap, this approach remains a concern for traditionalists. History’s Dilemma Historians face a crisis as they try to come to terms with the postmodern era which has seen unprecedented questioning of the validity of history’s claim to accuracy in recounting the past. In the words of Jenkins et al., “ ‘history’ per se wobbles” as it experiences a period of uncertainty and challenge; the field is “much changed and deeply contested,” as historians seek to understand the meaning of history itself (6). But is postmodernism the cause of the problem? Writing in 1986 Linda Hutcheon, well known for her work on postmodernism, attempted to clarify the term as it is applied in modern times in reference to fiction, where, she states, it is usually taken to mean “metafiction, or texts which are in some dominant and constitutive way self-referential and auto-representational” (301). To eliminate any confusion with regard to concept or terminology, Hutcheon coined the phrase “historiographic metafiction," which includes “the presence of the past” in “historical, social, and ideological” form (302). As examples, she cites contemporary novels The French Lieutenant’s Woman, The White Hotel, Midnight’s Children and Famous Last Words. Hutcheon explains that all these works “self-consciously focus on the processes of producing and receiving paradoxically fictive historical writing” (ibid). In the Australian context, Peter Carey’s True History of the Kelly Gang and Richard Flanagan’s Gould’s Book of Fish could be added to the list. Like the others, they question how historical sources maintain their status as authentic historical documents in the context of a fictional work (302). However, White argues that the crisis in historical studies is not due to postmodernism but has materialised because historians have failed to live up to their nineteenth century expectations of history being recognised as a science (149). Postmodernists are not against history, White avows; what they do not accept “is a professional historiography” that serves self-seeking governing bodies with its outdated and severely limited approach to objectivity (152). This kind of historiography has denied itself access to aesthetic writing and the imaginary, while it has also cut any links it had “to what was most creative in the real sciences it sought half-heartedly to emulate” (ibid). Furthering White’s argument, historian Robert Rosenstone states that past certitude in the claims of historians to be the sole guardians of historical truth now seem outdated in the light of our accumulated knowledge. The once impregnable position of the historian is no longer tenable because: We know too much about framing images and stories, too much about narrative, too much about the problematics of causality, too much about the subjectivity of perception, too much about our own cultural imperatives and biases, too much about the disjuncture between language and the world it purports to describe to believe we can actually capture the world of the past on the page. (Rosenstone 12) While the archive confers credibility on history, it does not confer the right to historians to claim it as the truth (Southgate 6); there are many possible versions of the past, which can be presented to us in any number of ways as history (Jenkins et al. 1). And this is a major challenge for historians as other modes of representing the past cater to public demand in place of traditional approaches. Public interest in history has grown over the last 20 years (Harlan 109). Historical novels fill the shelves of bookstores and libraries, while films, television series and documentaries about the past attract large audiences. In the words of Rosenstone, “people are hungry for the past, as various studies tell us and the responses to certain films, TV series and museums indicate” (17). Rosenstone laments the fact that historians, despite this attraction to the past, have failed to stir public interest in their own writings. While works of history have their strengths, they target a specific, extremely limited audience in an outdated format (17). They have forgotten the fact that, in the words of White, “the conjuring up of the past requires art as well as information” (149). This may be true of some historians, but there are many writers of non-fiction, including historians, who use the narrative voice and other fictional techniques in their writings (Ricketson). Matthew Ricketson accuses White of confusing “fiction with literariness,” while other scholars take fiction and narrative to be the same thing. He argues that “the use of a wide range of modes of writing usually associated with fiction are not the sole province of fiction” and that narrative theorists have concentrated their attention on fictional narrative, thereby excluding factual forms of writing (ibid). One of the defining elements of creative non-fiction is its use of literary techniques in writing about factual events and people. At the same time, this does not make it fiction, which by definition, relies on invention (ibid). However, those historians who do write outside the limits of traditional history can attract criticism. Historian Richard Current argues that if writers of history and biography try to be more effective through literary considerations, they sometimes lose their objectivity and authenticity. While it is acceptable to seek to write with clarity and force, it is out of the question to present “occasional scenes in lifelike detail” in the manner of a novelist. Current contends that if only one source is used, this violates “the historiographical requirement of two or more independent and competent witnesses.” This requirement is important because it explains why much of the writing by academic historians is perceived as “dry-as-dust” (Current 87). Modern-day historians are contesting this viewpoint as they analyse the nature and role of their writings, with some turning to historical fiction as an alternative mode of expression. Perhaps one of the more well-known cases in recent times was that of historian Simon Schama, who, in writing Dead Certainties (Unwarranted Speculations), was criticised for creating dramatic scenes based on dubious historical sources without informing the reader of his fabrications (Nelson). In this work, Schama questions notions of factual history and the limitations of historians. The title is suggestive in itself, while the afterword to the book is explicit, as “historians are left forever chasing shadows, painfully aware of their inability ever to reconstruct a dead world in its completeness however thorough or revealing their documentation . . . We are doomed to be forever hailing someone who has just gone around the corner and out of earshot” (320). Another example is Rosenstone’s Mirror in the Shrine, which was considered to be “postmodern” and not acceptable to publishers and agents as the correct way to present history, despite the author’s reassurance that nothing was invented, “it just tells the story a different way” ("Space for the Birds to Fly" 16). Schama is not the only author to draw fire from critics for neglecting to inform the reader of the veracity or not of their writing. Richard Current accused Gore Vidal of getting his facts wrong and of inaccurately portraying Lincoln in his work, Lincoln: A Novel (81). Despite the title, which is a form of disclaimer itself, Current argued that Vidal could have avoided criticism if he had not asserted that his work was authentic history, or had used a disclaimer in a preface to deny any connection between the novel’s characters and known persons (82). Current is concerned about this form of writing, known as “fictional history," which, unlike historical fiction, “pretends to deal with real persons and events but actually reshapes them—and thus rewrites the past” (77). This concern is shared by historians in Australia. Fictive History Historian Mark McKenna, in his essay, Writing the Past, argues that “fictive history” has become a new trend in Australia; he is unhappy with the historical authority bestowed on this form of writing and would like to see history restored to its rightful place. He argues that with the decline of academic history, novelists have taken over the historian’s role and fiction has become history (3). In sympathy with McKenna, author, historian and anthropologist Inga Clendinnen claims that “novelists have been doing their best to bump historians off the track” (16). McKenna accuses writers W.G. Sebald and David Malouf of supporting “the core myth of historical fiction: the belief that being there is what makes historical understanding possible.” Malouf argues, in a conversation with Helen Daniel in 1996, that: Our only way of grasping our history—and by history I really mean what has happened to us, and what determines what we are now and where we are now—the only way of really coming to terms with that is by people's entering into it in their imagination, not by the world of facts, but by being there. And the only thing really which puts you there in that kind of way is fiction. Poetry may do so, drama may do so, but it's mostly going to be fiction. It's when you have actually been there and become a character again in that world. (3) From this point of view, the historical novel plays an important role in our culture because it allows people to interact with the past in a meaningful way, something factual writing struggles to do. McKenna recognises that history is present in fiction and that history can contain fiction, but they should not be confused. Writers and critics have a responsibility towards their readers and must be clear that fiction is not history and should not be presented as such (10). He takes writer Kate Grenville to task for not respecting this difference. McKenna argues that Grenville has asserted in public that her historical novel The Secret River is history: “If ever there was a case of a novelist wanting her work to be taken seriously as history, it is Grenville” (5). The Secret River tells the story of early settlement along the Hawkesbury River in New South Wales. Grenville’s inspiration for the story emanated from her ancestor Solomon Wiseman’s life. The main protagonist, William Thornhill (loosely based on Wiseman), is convicted of theft in 1806 and transported to Australia. The novel depicts the poverty and despair in England at the time, and describes life in the new colony where Grenville explores the collision between the colonists and the Aborigines. McKenna knows that Grenville insists elsewhere that her book is not history, but he argues that this conflicts with what she said in interviews and he worries that “with such comments, it is little wonder that many people might begin to read fiction as history” (5). In an article on her website, Grenville refutes McKenna’s arguments, and those of Clendinnen: “Here it is in plain words: I don’t think The Secret River is history…Nor did I ever say that I thought my novel was history.” Furthermore, the acknowledgements in the back of the book state clearly that it is a work of fiction. She accuses the two above-mentioned historians of using quotes that “have been narrowly selected, taken out of context, and truncated” ("History and Fiction"). McKenna then goes on to say how shocked he was on hearing Grenville, in an interview with Ramona Koval on Radio National, make her now infamous comments about standing on a stepladder looking down at the history wars, and that he “felt like ringing the ABC and leaping to the defence of historians.” He accuses Grenville of elevating fiction above history as an “interpretive power” (6). Koval asked Grenville where her book stood in regard to the history wars; she answered: Mine would be up on a ladder, looking down at the history wars. . . I think the historians, and rightly so, have battled away about the details of exactly when and where and how many and how much, and they’ve got themselves into these polarised positions, and that’s fine, I think that’s what historians ought to be doing; constantly questioning the evidence and perhaps even each other. But a novelist can stand up on a stepladder and look down at this, outside the fray, [emphasis in original audio] and say there is another way to understand it. ("Interview") Grenville claims that she did not use the stepladder image to imply that her work was superior to history, but rather to convey a sense of being outside the battle raging between historians as an uninvolved observer, “an interested onlooker who made the mistake of climbing a stepladder rather than a couple of fruit-boxes to get a good view.” She goes on to argue that McKenna’s only sources in his essay, Writing the Past, are interviews and newspaper articles, which in themselves are fine, but she disagrees with how they have been used “uncritically, at face value, as authoritative evidence” ("History and Fiction"), much in contrast to the historian’s desire for authenticity in all sources. It appears that the troubles between history and fiction will continue for some time yet as traditional historians are bent on keeping faith with the tenets of their nineteenth century predecessors by defending history from the insurgence of fiction at all costs. While history and historical fiction share a common purpose in presenting the past, the novel deals with what is “real” and can tell the past as accurately or even in a more plausible way than history, which deals with what is “true”. However, the “dry-as-dust” historical approach to writing, and postmodernism’s questioning of historiography’s role in presenting the past, has contributed to a reassessment of the nature of history. Many historians recognise the need for change in the way they present their work, but as they have often doubted the worth of historical fiction, they are wary of the genre and the narrative techniques it employs. Those historians who do make an attempt to write differently have often been criticised by traditionalists. In Australia, historians such as McKenna and Clendinnen are worried by the incursion of historical fiction into their territory and are highly critical of novelists who claim their works are history. The overall picture that emerges is of two fields that are still struggling to clarify a number of core issues concerning the nature of both the historical novel and historiographical writing, and the role they play in portraying the past. References Brown, Joanne. "Historical Fiction or Fictionalized History? Problems for Writers of Historical Novels for Young Adults." ALAN Review 26.1 (1998). 1 March 2010 ‹http://scholar.lib.vt.edu/ejournals/ALAN/fall98/brown.html›. Carey, Peter. True History of the Kelly Gang. St Lucia, Qld: U of Queensland P, 2000. Clendinnen, Inga. "The History Question: Who Owns the Past?" Quarterly Essay 23 (2006): 1-72. Current, Richard. "Fiction as History: A Review Essay." Journal of Southern History 52.1 (1986): 77-90. De Piérola, José. "At the Edge of History: Notes for a Theory for the Historical Novel in Latin America." Romance Studies 26.2 (2008): 151-62. Demos, John. "Afterword: Notes from, and About, the History/Fiction Borderland." Rethinking History 9.2/3 (2005): 329-35. Den Heyer, Kent, and Alexandra Fidyk. "Configuring Historical Facts through Historical Fiction: Agency, Art-in-Fact, and Imagination as Stepping Stones between Then and Now." Educational Theory 57.2 (2007): 141-57. Flanagan, Richard. Gould’s Book of Fish: A Novel in Twelve Fish. Sydney: Picador, 2002. Grenville, Kate. “History and Fiction.” 2007. 19 July 2010 ‹http://kategrenville.com/The_Secret_River_History%20and%20Fiction›. ———. “Interview with Ramona Koval.” 17 July 2005. 26 July 2010 ‹http://www.abc.net.au/rn/arts/bwriting/stories/s1414510.htm›. ———. The Secret River. Melbourne: Text Publishing, 2006. Harlan, David. “Historical Fiction and the Future of Academic History.” Manifestos for History. Ed. Keith Jenkins, Sue Morgan and Alun Munslow. Abingdon, Oxon; N.Y.: Routledge, 2007. Hutcheon, Linda. A Poetics of Postmodernism: History, Theory Fiction. New York: Routledge, 1988. Jenkins, Keith, Sue Morgan, and Alun Munslow. Manifestos for History. Abingdon, Oxon; N.Y.: Routledge, 2007. Lukács, György. The Historical Novel. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1983. Malouf, David. "Interview with Helen Daniel." Australian Humanities Review (Sep. 1996). McKenna, Mark. “Writing the Past: History, Literature & the Public Sphere in Australia.” Australian Financial Review (2005). 13 May 2010 ‹http://www.afraccess.com.ezp01.library.qut.edu.au/search›. Nelson, Camilla. “Faking It: History and Creative Writing.” TEXT: Journal of Writing and Writing Courses 11.2 (2007). 5 June 2010 ‹http://www.textjournal.com.au›. Ricketson, Matthew. “Not Muddying, Clarifying: Towards Understanding the Boundaries between Fiction and Nonfiction.” TEXT: Journal of Writing and Writing Courses 14.2 (2010). 6 June 2011 ‹http://www.textjournal.com.au/oct10/ricketson.htm›. Rosenstone, Robert A. “Space for the Bird to Fly.” Manifestos for History. Eds. Keith Jenkins, Sue Morgan and Alun Munslow. Abingdon, Oxon; N.Y.: Routledge, 2007. 11-18. ———. Mirror in the Shrine: American Encounters with Meiji Japan. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1988. Schama, Simon. Dead Certainties: (Unwarranted Speculations). 1st Vintage Books ed. New York: Vintage Books, 1992. Slotkin, Richard. “Fiction for the Purposes of History.” Rethinking History 9.2/3 (2005): 221-36. Southgate, Beverley C. History Meets Fiction. New York: Longman, Harlow, England, 2009. White, Hayden. “Introduction: Historical Fiction, Fictional History, and Historical Reality.” Rethinking History 9.2/3 (2005): 147-57.

This work deals with the existence of a wide body of ballads in Italy during the romantic era. It disproves Giovanni Berchet's contention in his "Lettera semiseria", the manifesto of Italian Romanticism. He argued that Italy did not have popular literature and, being unaware of an existing tradition, he translated and proposed two of Burger's ballads as examples to be followed.
The first two chapters of this thesis concentrate on the origins of the popular ballad and its first occurrence in Italy.
The third chapter examines the major ballad writers in Italy. Particular attention is given to Luigi Carrer and Giovanni Prati.
The final chapters are a discussion of Italy's minor ballad writers, followed by a conclusion.

Titcomb's compositions and writings are the products of a life lived in New England, mainly in Amesbury and Boston. Because the innovations that came about from the Oxford movement reached that part of this country first, Titcomb was one of the first church musicians to become involved with its innovations. Chapter 1 is devoted to a biographical account of his early life in Amesbury, and documents his work at the Church of the Messiah in Auburndale and Christ Church in Andover, where he took the two positions immediately after his high school graduation. Chapter 2 treats the fifty years that he worked at St. John the Evangelist, building up the choir and its repertoire to such an extent that other churches invited the group to give liturgical recitals. Chapter 3 discusses his teaching activities at the New England Conservatory, Boston University, the Wellesley Conference, and his work with the Schola Cantorum at the Church of St. John the Evangelist, all of which influenced many young musicians who brought their craft to churches throughout the United States. Chapters 4-6 are devoted to his choral, organ, and miscellaneous works: examples from unpublished manuscripts will be discussed; premiers are documented, and excerpts of correspondence from the composer are given concerning specific works. His compositional style will be discussed with assessments of individual works, and examples will be given from the different styles and genres to which he contributed. Chapter 7 discusses his writings, which deal specifically with the work of an organist and choirmaster in an Episcopal church. Titcomb's ideas concerning the musical life of a parish will be examined, including his thoughts on the performance of hymns, the choice of fitting music for the liturgy, and the accompaniment of Plainsong.

Orientador: Carlos Eduardo Mendes de Moraes
Banca: Marco Antonio Domingues Sant'Anna
Banca: Heloisa Helou Doca
Resumo: Esta dissertação objetiva analisar o primeiro capítulo das duas edições não póstumas (1872 e 1884) do romance Inocência, do Visconde de Taunay (1843-1899), sob o ponto de vista filológico. Para tal foram utilizados os referenciais teóricos da filologia, da crítica textual, da crítica genética, da edótica e da estilística segundo os seguintes autores: César Nardelli Cambraia; Bárbara Spaggiari e Maurizio Perugi; Cecília Almeida Salles; Segismundo Spina; José Lemos Monteiro e Nilce Sant‟Anna Martins. Alfredo d‟Escragnolle Taunay atuou e escreveu sobre várias esferas do Brasil do século XIX, mas sua fama é atribuída a apenas duas de suas produções: La Retraite de Laguna (1871) e Inocência (1872). Pelo fato de o meio acadêmico ainda não ter ressaltado a necessidade da elaboração de uma análise aprofundada da recepção e das alterações pelas quais o romance campestre possa ter passado após tantas publicações, é que este estudo propõe a aplicação de dois procedimentos da crítica textual, recensio e collatio, por meio dos quais se revelarão, a partir de uma amostragem, as alterações às quais o texto foi submetido e a importância dessas escolhas em função de algumas coordenadas indicadas pela fortuna crítica. Este processo contribui para desmistificar o processo criativo das obras de arte (crítica genética) e também auxilia na criação de um conjunto de regras que constituem marcas de estilo do autor, presentes no processo de edição e reedição da obra
Abstract: This dissertation aims to analyze the first chapter of the two not posthumous editions (1872 and 1884) of the novel Inocência, by Visconde de Taunay (1843-1899), using the philological approach. For this purpose, it was used the theoretical frame of references of philology, textual criticism, genetic criticism, ecdotics and stylistics according to the following authors: César Nardelli Cambraia; Bárbara Spaggiari e Maurizio Perugi; Cecília Almeida Salles; Segismundo Spina; José Lemos Monteiro e Nilce Sant‟Anna Martins. Alfredo d'Escragnolle Taunay acted and wrote about various spheres of nineteenth-century Brazil, but his fame is attributed to only two works of him: La Retraite de Laguna (1871) and Inocência (1872). Considering that academia has not emphasized the necessity of developing a thorough examination of the reception and the changes through which the country novel has spent after so many publications, this study proposes the application of two procedures of textual criticism, recensio and collatio, by means of which will show, from a sample, the changes to which the text was submitted and the importance of these choices on the basis of some coordinates indicated by critical fortune. This process helps to demystify the creative process of art works (genetic criticism) and also helps in creating a set of rules that constitute the author's style tags, present in the editing and re-editing process of the work
Mestre

The present work examines the poetry in neapolitan language and particularly the works of E. A. Mario, fin de siecle poet and melody writer, who contributed considerably to the song history.
The first part introduces us to the neapolitan regional poetry as well as to its language to finally conclude with the poetry set to music: the song. The ideal atmosphere is the cafe-chantant. The poets of the time including Salvatore Di Giacomo and the generation after are surveyed.
The second part deals with the author. It describes his life, his art and his works, rich of popular and especially classical elements, which crowned him with success.

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Esta dissertação objetiva analisar o primeiro capítulo das duas edições não póstumas (1872 e 1884) do romance Inocência, do Visconde de Taunay (1843-1899), sob o ponto de vista filológico. Para tal foram utilizados os referenciais teóricos da filologia, da crítica textual, da crítica genética, da edótica e da estilística segundo os seguintes autores: César Nardelli Cambraia; Bárbara Spaggiari e Maurizio Perugi; Cecília Almeida Salles; Segismundo Spina; José Lemos Monteiro e Nilce Sant‟Anna Martins. Alfredo d‟Escragnolle Taunay atuou e escreveu sobre várias esferas do Brasil do século XIX, mas sua fama é atribuída a apenas duas de suas produções: La Retraite de Laguna (1871) e Inocência (1872). Pelo fato de o meio acadêmico ainda não ter ressaltado a necessidade da elaboração de uma análise aprofundada da recepção e das alterações pelas quais o romance campestre possa ter passado após tantas publicações, é que este estudo propõe a aplicação de dois procedimentos da crítica textual, recensio e collatio, por meio dos quais se revelarão, a partir de uma amostragem, as alterações às quais o texto foi submetido e a importância dessas escolhas em função de algumas coordenadas indicadas pela fortuna crítica. Este processo contribui para desmistificar o processo criativo das obras de arte (crítica genética) e também auxilia na criação de um conjunto de regras que constituem marcas de estilo do autor, presentes no processo de edição e reedição da obra
This dissertation aims to analyze the first chapter of the two not posthumous editions (1872 and 1884) of the novel Inocência, by Visconde de Taunay (1843-1899), using the philological approach. For this purpose, it was used the theoretical frame of references of philology, textual criticism, genetic criticism, ecdotics and stylistics according to the following authors: César Nardelli Cambraia; Bárbara Spaggiari e Maurizio Perugi; Cecília Almeida Salles; Segismundo Spina; José Lemos Monteiro e Nilce Sant‟Anna Martins. Alfredo d'Escragnolle Taunay acted and wrote about various spheres of nineteenth-century Brazil, but his fame is attributed to only two works of him: La Retraite de Laguna (1871) and Inocência (1872). Considering that academia has not emphasized the necessity of developing a thorough examination of the reception and the changes through which the country novel has spent after so many publications, this study proposes the application of two procedures of textual criticism, recensio and collatio, by means of which will show, from a sample, the changes to which the text was submitted and the importance of these choices on the basis of some coordinates indicated by critical fortune. This process helps to demystify the creative process of art works (genetic criticism) and also helps in creating a set of rules that constitute the author's style tags, present in the editing and re-editing process of the work

Thesis (MA)--Stellenbosch University, 2008.
ENGLISH ABSTRACT: The first section of this thesis aims at creating a reading strategy for the analysis of poetry thematically concerned with habitation and the space of the house. Selected Afrikaans poems, forming part of a newer house-poetry that breaks away from the idyllic, genial representation of the house in earlier Afrikaans poetry, are examined. The theoretical equipment utilised in this examination is the habitation philosophies of Martin Heidegger, Otto Friedrich Bollnow and Gustav Bachelard. Various related insights in the work of these philosophers are developed into a three-tiered model for the interpretation of house poetry. Supplementing the abovementioned framework is the socio-historical work of Joseph Rykwert and Ton Lemaire. Both these theorists explore the close connection between the space of the house and the realisation of mortality and transience. The application of the philosophical model facilitates, on the micro level of image and word choice, a fresh understanding of the selected poems, as well as a wider philosophical contextualisation of their thematic content. The reading strategy and the application thereof could also provide the means with which a new philosophical scrutiny of Afrikaans house-poetry can be achieved. The abovementioned formal essay is presented as coupled with a collection of original Afrikaans poems, entitled Vierluik, the creative section of this thesis. Vierluik examines, among other things, aspects of habitation in city, town and countryside, and reflects on descent, rootedness, displacement and the interconnection of space and identity.
AFRIKAANSE OPSOMMING: Die eerste gedeelte van hierdie tesis het as doel die daarstelling van ’n leesstrategie waarmee poësie wat tematies oor die huisruimte en bewoning handel, ondersoek kan word. Geselekteerde Afrikaanse gedigte, wat deel vorm van ’n nuwer huispoësie wat sedert die sestigerjare wegbreek van die idilliese, gemoedelike uitbeelding van die huis in vroeër Afrikaanse gedigte, word ondersoek. Die teoretiese apparatuur wat in hierdie ondersoek aangewend word, is die bewoningsfilosofieë van Martin Heidegger, Otto Friedrich Bollnow en Gustav Bachelard. Verskeie verbandhoudende insigte in die werk van hierdie denkers word ontwikkel tot ’n drieledige interpretasiemodel vir huispoësie. Hierby dien as aanvulling die kultuur-historiese werk van Joseph Rykwert en Ton Lemaire, waarin die noue band tussen die huisruimte en die doods- of verganklikheidsbesef uitgewerk word. Die toepassing van hierdie filosofiese begripsapparatuur fasiliteer op die mikrovlak van beelde en woordkeuse ’n vars verstaan van die vyf geselekteerde gedigte, asook ’n breër filosofiese kontekstualisering van hulle tematiese inhoud. Die leesstrategie en toepassings sou ook ’n filosofiese oopdek van die huispoësie in Afrikaans kon bemiddel. Hierdie akademiese gedeelte dien verder as ’n verbandhoudende oefening by die kreatiewe gedeelte van die tesis, naamlik ’n digbundel, Vierluik. Die bundel ondersoek, onder andere, aspekte van bewoning in stad, dorp en platteland, en bied ’n besinning aan oor herkoms, geworteldheid, verplasing en die verweefdheid van ruimte en identiteit.

“Since ancient times philosophers, politicians, and social critics have debated the nature of community” (Parrish, 2002, p. 260; Bunn, 1998). “Aristotle and others have claimed that community is a broader concept, but have still kept their focus on the geographical and face-to-face nature of community” (Parrish, 2002, p. 260; Aristotle, 1991). “These views were reasonable in their time, but the advent of computer networking has caused these classic interpretations of community to lose currency” (Parrish, 2002; Cooley, 1983; Marvin, 1884). Some (Fernback & Thompson, 1997) like Edmund Burke have focused on the intergenerational and traditional aspects of life that he believes form true communities (Burke, 1790). “Even such proponents of virtual community as Rheingold (1993), Schwartz (1994), and McClellan (1994) maintain ‘face-to-face meetings’ can be valuable in the formation of a true sense of community” (Ferguson, 1994, p. 48; Mowitt, 2001). However, with our new abilities to communicate synchronously with multiple parties over the Internet—called synchronous computer-mediated communication (SCMC), we have opened up entirely new possibilities for the formation of true communities (Parrish, 2002; Robins, 2000). Daniel Filmus (2003), Minister of Education, Science, and Technology, Republic of Argentina, states, “The issue of cultural diversity is the central and most essential theme of our discussion” within cyberspace’s virtual community. In order to discuss cultural diversity within this context, the reader must first find the meanings of community—both traditional (geographically) and contemporary (virtually). Literature throughout history is reviewed for definitions, succinctness, and clarity on this particular topic of virtual community diversity. “Although the classic discussions of community cannot be applied directly to the context of the Internet, traditional community and virtual community have many [similarities]” (Parrish, 2002, p. 261). This work is an analysis of the traditional “community” (Cooke, 1990)—geographic community (Cartesian space) and the progress toward the virtual community. “Individuals, or a functional substitute such as a computer identity, come together to pursue and realize common interests, which tend to privilege [those certain] particular interests and needs” (Schuler, 1994, p. 63; Holmes, 1997, p. 28). There are imbalances in the virtual cosmos, similar to the Cartesian plane. “The Internet reaches only a very small portion of the inhabitants of this planet” (Samara, 2003). While analyzing these “inhabitants,” many “technical, political, and financial challenges” (Gowing, 2003) are addressed. This article also addresses the opportunities and challenges associated with “reconciling free flow of information and the need to preserve diversity in [the] digital world” (Vike-Freiberga, 2003). Finally, this article summarizes what many global leaders and scholars say about cultural diversity and the impact on the world and on the virtual community.